Blood Debts
by Hello Dee
Summary: Kat Molloy didn't need to become a newsie. She didn't want to become a newsie. She didn't even like newsies. Funny how some things in life just happen. (A Bronx Newsgirl's fic)


Blood Debts

Dublin, Ireland, 1898 

In the middle of a crowded train station, a slight girl of 12 stood, with her mother kneeled in front of her. Her small chin quivered, as she reluctantly let crystalline tears fall down her soft pink cheeks. She lowered her head in shame. She hated to cry in front of her Mam, but she couldn't help herself. Sniffling softly, she said in the bravest voice she could manage, "Mam? Could ye say goodbye te ev'ryone feh me?" 

"Of course, Kitten." Her Mam said, using the pet name she used for her daughter, as she pulled the girl's riot of red curls back with a green kerchief. Fingering the embroidered name _Kitten_ sewn into it with gold thread, she tied the kerchief securely to her daughter's head. "Chin up, lovie. Ye goin' te America. 'Tis said te be th' land of opportunity. Follow ye dreams, me little Kitten, but always rememb'r where ye came from, and that we all love ye." 

"Aye, Mam," The girl said, lifting her sad brown eyes up to meet her mother gaze for the last time. 

*** 

The Bronx, New York, 1902 

Erin Mulligan sauntered down the streets of East Bronx with a self-satisfied air. She just finished selling all her papes, and it was only 6 o'clock! 

For only a second, her lashes fluttered gently with contentment. 

But a second later she found herself sprawled on the streets. Glaring even before she stood up, Erin found herself face to face with a "lady of class." The lady, who must have been at least 40, wore a stainless white dress, a prim, matching hat and blue satin ribbons. Not even bothering to muttering an apology, the lady tried to pass Erin, skirts swishing.

'Like dat's gonna happen.' Erin thought with narrowed eyes. 

Stopping the woman, Erin said "What. Da. Hell?!" Making sure to accent each word. 

"Oh!" The woman exclaimed in a most lady-like manner. Shoving her purse at Erin she moaned piteously "Please, just take it! Leave me alone!" 

"What?" Erin asked skeptically, then rolling her eyes she said "Lis'en lady, I don't want ya money. I'se jus' wanna get an apology." 

"Oh, what ever you say, just don't hurt me!" 

A man in a business suit, which must have been in the lastest fashion, had seen what just happened. Seeing the lady in need he rushed up and asked "Excuse me, miss, is this ruffian bothering you?" 

"What?! Now wait a minute-" Erin started indignantly. 

"Yes, kind sir. Please help me!" The woman said, then pointing to Erin she said "This street rat tried to steal my purse." 

As the gentlemen tried to take the lady's purse back, the woman cried out "Help! This street rat is a thief!" 

Almost immediately, Erin found herself surrounded by a couple of bulls. 'How the hell did that happen, Mulligan?' She asked herself as she started to run as fast as she could down the streets. She knew that the bulls were following her. They always did. 

So she ran.

Countless blocks later, she found herself in South Bronx. Feeling comfortable in the familiar territory, she progressively started to slow down.

After looking backwards, she finally decided to just walk. "I'se one of da fastest girls of all of the Bronx Newsgirls, and hell would freeze ovah if I haven't outrun da bulls yet." She muttered to herself. Just to make sure, she looked back one more time. 

Still looking backwards, she tripped over some broken crates, by the corner of an alley. Finding herself on the cobblestone once more, Erin cursed to herself softly, her dark brown hair whipping around as she surveyed herself to see if anything was hurt, her brown eyes narrowing. As she got up and dusted herself off, she heard voices from inside of the alley. 

"Ya liddle bitch! Wheah's me money?" A rough, male voice demanded. 

"I gave ye all I got, Christef'r." A feminine voice replied coldly. 

"Ya lying slut!" The male voice yelled, getting louder and more furious. 

Erin turned her head around the corner of the alley just in time to see a tall burly man backhand a small, pixie-like girl. The girl collided into the brick wall behind her, her shoulder hitting the wall awkwardly, and made a sickening pop. 

"Chirstef'r..." the girl started, "If ye keep dislocatin' me should'r, I ain't gonna be able te get ye any more money." She finished as calmly as she could, pushing her dirty curls out of her face with her uninjured hand. 

"I would already have dat money if ya would jus' give it ta me!" Christopher continued, his voice rising steadily. 

Christopher started to punch the girl over and over, until she finally fell to the ground. When she did, Christopher then proceeded to kick her in the stomach. The girl groaned, holding back whimpers. She would not give Christopher the pleasure of seeing her grovel. 

Erin turned her head for a second, thinking 'Dis ain't got nuttin' to do wit ya...' and repeated that to herself over and over again, as she heard the girl stifle screams. When she looked back, she saw Christopher undo his belt and started to whip the girl. 

"Christef'r, stop it! I didn't take ye money! I swear! I don't got any reason te lie!" The girl cried out, putting her good arm up to protect herself. 

Almost without thinking, Erin picked up a large piece of a broken crate, walked up behind Peter and struck him hard in the back of his head. She watched emotionlessly as she saw him fall to the ground like a limp doll. 

The girl was crumpled on the ground, and with great effort, she started to get up. 

"Ya awright?" Erin asked almost flippantly. 

"Well, considering th' fact that I jest got me arse beat, I'm great." The girl said. "Unh..." She moaned, "Now that's going te leave a whoppin' headache," she mumbled. 

With raised eyebrow, Erin said "Ya can't have gotten dat soaked if you'se can still make jokes." 

"Well, these days, me jokes are th' only thing I can afford te keep." The girl said with a small, pained smile. 

"Da names Mulligan. Erin Mulligan." Erin said, extending her hand, and offered a wry grin. 

"Nice te meet ye, Erin. Me name's...Kathleen," the girl said after a barely perceptible pause. "But ye can call me Kat." Kat said with another smile, and gave Erin a small handshake. "You've done so much...but could ye do me a favor and put me shoulder back inte it's place?" 

"Yeah, shoah." Erin said, fumbling around, "Uh...how's I suppose ta do dat?" 

Kat briefly instructed Erin how to put her back in place. Following Kat's instructions, Erin finally heard a pop. 

"Ya wanna get cleaned up?" Erin asked uncomfortably, as they made their way down the streets. Looking up into the peerless night sky, she realized that it must be 7 or 8 o'clock by now. Seeing this, she decided that they should go to the boys' Lodging House. 

"Sure. That would be nice." Kat said softly, and the two began walking towards the South Bronx Newsboys Lodging House. 

"So who was dat joik?" Erin asked cautiously. 

"He's me boss." Kat said distantly. "Me and him 'ave...diffehent ideas about me salary-he thinks that I dunnae 'ave one." She continued with an ironic smile. 

There was a spell of silence that fell over the two, and both shuffled along uncomfortably. 

Reaching a tall building with the sign "South Bronx Newsboys Lodging House," Erin dragged Kat in. Seeing a older man in his sixties Erin nodded politely and said "Heya Mistah MacConaughy...I'se was jus' wonderin' if Dunromin is heah." 

"He's probably upstairs," the kindly man said, "You can go up and get him if you want-" 

Before Brendan could finish his sentence, Erin took hold of what was left of Kat's dress collar, and dashed up the stairs, barging into a room full of boys. Some of the boys where on their bunks, but most were playing a card game in the middle of the room. And all eyes in the room went straight to them, except for one small boy with hair the color of fine sand, with cold brown eyes, who no one seemed to notice slip downstairs, a tiger-striped cat following close by his heels. 

Eagle Keyseear opened his mouth slightly and felt his cigar droop from his mouth, and his quick blue eyes widen. He knew Erin was a fellow Bronx newsie, but he still wasn't used to having girls in their Lodging House. Then, he noticed the bloody, beaten girl. Her bare feet was actually more dirty then the rest of her, seeming to be black. Eagle could see bits of green cloth under the grime on the girl's dress, though it was a challenge. Her hair looked like a muddy reddish color, and looked as if it would be curly if it hadn't been weighted down by blood and mud. But he hardly saw any of that. All he could see her eyes. They seemed permanently sad. They were a soft brown, but the color didn't matter so much as her expression, which reminded him a puppy when it's been kicked. 

"Heya, short stuff! Didn't see ya down dere!" Someone yelled toward Erin. 

Rolling her eyes, Erin asked coolly "Does any of you'se know wheah Dunromin is?"

Recovering amazingly from the shock of a girl in the Lodging House, he gave Pitcher a crooked grin and muttered "I t'ink it jus' got colda in heah." 

When the crowd of boys' playing cards laughed muffledly, Erin said "What didja say?" and looked straight at Eagle. 

"I said dat I t'ink he's jus' up dere." Eagle said, pointing upwards to the roof, and the group of boys laughed again. 

Erin looked over the speaker quietly, until it finally dawned upon on her who he was. Grinning, she replied, "Ya t'ink? Now dere's a foist," and with a smirk said "T'anks anyway...Keyseeah." 

The quick-witted boy gave her an odd, almost startled look. He didn't know that the girl learned any of their names yet...besides Splints, that is. Just when he was about to ask her how she knew his name, Four-Eyes gave him a couple light punches. Realizing that it was his turn in the card game, he took one last glance at the odd girl and continued with the game. 

*** 

Running up the stairs with graceful agility, Erin finally got up to the roof, where she saw Splints standing by the edge of the building, arms dangling from the side, and looking deep in thought. Not wanting to disturb him, Erin stood there for a few minutes. 

Running his hands through his black curls as he turned around to go back in, Splints stopped abruptly when he saw Erin. 

Slightly startled, he gave greeted her with "Heya, you'se one of Lazy's new goils, right? Erin? Whaddaya doin' heah?" 

"Dunromin," Erin started, "Dere's dis goil downstairs, and she needs some cleaning. She got a soaking from her boss, and she don't look so good. I figured dat dis is closah den da Goil's Lodgin' House, so I came heah." 

Muttering under his breath, he agreed and walked down the stairs to the girl. 

*** 

Corks and Smith Shaunessy walked lazily into the South Bronx Newsboy Lodging House, Corks whistling absentmindedly to himself, and Smithy rolling his eyes at his brother. "Heya, Brendan," Smithy said easily while walking up the stairs. 

When they got to the newsies room, Corks started to say "Top o' th' evenin' me fellow-" But abruptly stopped when he saw the strange girl standing on the side of the doorway, with all eyes on her. 

*** 

Kat shuffled her feet nervously as she noticed all the newsies looking at her. She glanced at the door to the downstairs, and remembered seeing the slight boy with sandy colored hair slink down there. She wished she could do the same. 

Hoping none would recognize her, she let her long curls cover her face and stared at the worn wooden planks she was standing on. From beneath her hair she could see the shorter boy with brown hair, the one Erin had called "Keyseear," who had been playing cards, whisper something to the group of boys surrounding him. When they starting to hold back grins and laughter, Kat gritted her teeth. She eased her jaw when she saw a boy with soft brown hair narrow bright brown eyes and told them something which made them stop their antics, and she could hear someone mutter "Aw, Donahue, dere ain't no reason ta get mad," and "Don't be a bummah, Rollah. We'se jus' havin' a liddle fun, dat's all." The brown-eyed "knight in shining armor" shrugged and gave her a sweet, apologetic smile. 

With a dull "thunk", a blue-eyed boy with a shock of red hair hoisted himself up with his arms, and put his feet down, getting up and smiled openly at Kat. 

"Heya, miss," He said, his many freckles disappearing as he blushed. "Dey call me Souther around heah. Do ye need any help? Me and da fellahs would be glad ta help ya." Souther continued. Normally, Kat would be intimidated by being talked to so casually by a stranger, but with Souther's blue eyes shining so sweetly, she felt she could trust him. 

"It's a pleasure te meet ye, Souther." She said shyly. "Me name's-" 

Interrupted by someone coming in the room, she turned her head slightly, just in time to see a boy walked through the door and say "Top o' th' evenin' me fellow-" in an awful Irish accent and then look at her. Letting her dirty hair veil her face, she looked at him. She noticed the way that he cocked his head to once side as he stared at her, as if he were studying her. 

"Hello," the boy said, his blue eyes flashing with a mix of wariness and friendliness. "Me names Corey Brennan Shaunessy. But these poor boys like te call me Corks." He said giving her a wiry smile. 

*** 

'Oh!' Kat thought wildly, 'They'll recognize me,' she continued irrationally. 'They've neveh met ye b'fore, and haven't even seen ye b'fore. Calm down, lassie, calm down.' She told herself, hoping to calm herself. 

After a second of hesitation, Kat gave a weak smile, and said "H'lo, me name's Kat. Pleasure te meet ye, Corks Shaunessy." 

Corks stood there for a second, wondering about this girl. That is, until his brother punched him none too lightly in the arm. "An' this fellow is me bruddah, Smithy." He told her, then, cupping the side of his mouth he told her conspiringly "But dunnae spread th' word that we'se related. I'se so much more handsome, dat people cannae tell, an' I'd like te keep it that way..." He said with a big grin, knowing how foolish that sounded because he looked almost exactly like his brother, from their disheveled blond hair to their mischievous blue eyes. "So where did ye get those shinahs?" He asked in an almost conversational tone, indicating the bruises on her neck and arms. 

"I had a wee bit o' a fight with me boss." She said, making a large understatement. 

Corks nodded. He knew about guys like that, and he didn't need to ask anything else. 

"Th' lads haven't intr'duced themselves yet?" Corks asked. Noticing their adverting gazes, he knew the answer to that. "Dunnae worry yerself, th' lads heah ain't that bright." He continued, grinning when there was a loud protest from the South Bronx newsies, and dodged a few pillows and hats. 

"Ya need help cleanin' up?" Corks asked, his false accent slipping as he realized what a mess she was. "Da sinks over dere, if ya need it." Corks said, softening his voice, pointing in the general direction of the washroom. 

"I'll take care of it." A voice said loudly from across the room. 

*** 

"Oh, h'lo Erin," Kat said with her first real smile since she came to the Lodging House. 

Corks' look of surprise turned into a genuine grin. He liked Erin Mulligan. She was fun to joke around with and she knew how to take a joke when it came back to her. A lot of guys need to learn how to do that. 

"Heya-Erin," he said, stumbling over the name. "Dis your stray, Erin?" He asked, the name falling more smoothly, this time. He knew her, but her name still felt odd against his tounge.

"As a mattah of fact, she is. And dis 'stray' happens to be pure bred, so ya bettah leave ya filt'y self away." She said with a grin. "Well, I'll deal wit ya latah, but right now we'se got ta get Kat cleaned up." Erin replied, taking hold of Kat's sleeved arm, and pivoting to the direction of the washroom.

"Sure knee-high! We'll tawk latah!" He called aftah her.

When they got to the washroom, Kat said curiously "Ye really like th' boys heah. I mean, ye really good friends with them." It wasn't a question. 

"Dere awright." Erin said with a shrug. 

"They're an...interestin' bunch," Kat answered with a small grin, as she was instructed where the bath was, and a some clothing borrowed from various boys. "How long 'ave ye known them?" She continued through the modestly curtain. "If ye dunnae mind tellin' me, that it." She added quickly. 

"Nah, it's fine. I'se known dem since I got heah. Not that long." Erin  told her with another shrug.

"Ye seem so close te them. Able te joke with them like that, and not get offended." Kat said softly, almost wistfully. She thought of some of the names she had been called in the past and she knew that the people who said them weren't joking around. She bathed in silence for the rest of the time, lost in her thoughts.

Immerging from the curtains, she suddenly asked "Are th' bruises that bad? He usually stays away from me face, but...feh me line o' work, I cannae afford te have bruises." She explained herself wryly. 

Erin bit her lip while studying her new friend. With her creamy pinkish skin, the purple bruises didn't stand out as much as it would've if she had paler skin. Erin had borrowed some of the smaller boys' clothes to give to Kat, but the brown pants still seemed a bit too baggy. The under shirt was white, and had long sleeves, and over that was a white button-down shirt rolled up to her elbows. Well, Erin assumed that those articles had once been white, but now they were a permanent shade of beige. The clothes covered pretty much all the other wounds. 

"You'se look fine." Erin said truthfully, "Da shinah's don't stand out dat much 'cause of ya skin color." 

"Th' odd advantages of bein' Irish," Kat muttered. 

Grinning, Erin said "Besides, I heah dat purple's da latest fashion. Come on, let's get out of heah." She urged, all but pushing Kat out of the washroom. 

*** 

When the door of the washroom opened with a loud creak, once again, Erin and Kat found themselves being stared at by the near 30 boys of the Lodging House.

This time, the reaction was a bit different.

Jaws were dropped open in surprise and admiration. 'Was this the girl that had walked in here an hour ago?' Some of them thought, as they looked at the drastic change between the bedraggled girl who had walked in here, and the one who was standing in front of them now. Perhaps they were too stunned to whistle appreciatively, like some normally would. But it's more likely that it was because Splints stood stoically in front of them, his brow furrowing with concern. 

She wasn't a true beauty in the classic sense, but she had a pixie-like presence and that appearance seemed to draw attention to her. Her fiery copper ringlets only added to the effect, as they fell to her waist gracefully. Her soulful brown eyes let them know that she wasn't as innocent as she looked, that she had been hurt, more than just physically, and the small flecks of gold danced in a pool a chocolate, as they caught in the light. She was small, only a couple inches taller then Erin, who barely reached 5 feet, and again, that added to her child-like appearance .

Mistaking the looks of surprise and appreciating with looks of jeering, Kat raised her head slightly, she clenched her jaw and fists. "I have te go," she said in a haughty tone, and with that she bolted out the door swiftly. 

Corks mumbled something about forgetting something, but was forgotten in all the confusion. 

"Could you'se stared at 'er jus' a liddle bit more? If you'se jus' got soaked would you'se have liked people starin' at ya like you'se were some goddamned freak?" Erin told them hitting her forehead with the palm of her hand.

"Aw, Erin, we'se sorry. Ya know we didn't mean it dat way." Peanut said softly. 

Erin sighed softly. "I know that you didn't mean it that way. But Kat doesn't know that." 

*** 

By the time Corks had caught up with Kat, he was almost completely out of breath. But she was fine, except for being nervous. Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her towards him. 

"Why did ya leave?" Corks truly confused, and slipping out of his fake accent. "Ya coulda had a place ta stay." 

"I-I'm very thankful te Erin, but I cannae stay there, and I wouldn't be able te even if I wanted te." Kat spat out. 

"Why not?" Corks said, his curiosity growing. 

"It-it's none of ye business!" Kat stuttered, getting more irritated at her speech. "Now if ye dunnae mind I must be getting home." She said in a calmer voice. 

"As a mattah of fact, I do mind. Wheah's 'home', anyways?" Corks asked, wondering if he would get an answer.

Deciding what she was going to do, Kat glared at Corks coldly and said "Ye want te know where home is feh me? Then ask th' people at th' Door o' Hope. They'se been tryin' te get me te join them feh almost a yeah now."

Corks gulped. "You'se a..." He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. 

"What, a harlot? A streetwalker? A whore?" Kat asked unemotionally, her warm brown eyes turning colder with each word. "Aye, I am. And now, I've got te go **home**." Turning her head while walking she said "Ask ye 'boys' about Delilah." 

*** 

'Holy shit,' Corks thought to himself. He had never actually met a harlot before! Certainly not formally, anyway. And she seemed so...so normal. He always thought of whore's as...well, not like Kat. More...filthy, a person who liked slutting. It's obvious that they could've chosen other paths, like become a newsie. Hooking wasn't the only way to get money.

'But Kat...she ain't like dat. She seemed so nice, someone who'd be a real good friend. But I guess dat's what she's trained fer.' Corks thought, and shrugged it off. "Maybe...maybe I'se could help 'er" Corks said thoughtfully, as he walked back to the Lodging House.

*** 

'Are ye mad, lass?' Kat asked herself on her way "home." 'Ye can neveh go back now. That lad...he'll tell. He'll tell...''

Kat thought deeply, absentmindedly admiring the crisp autumn colored leaves, freshly fallen from the small trees planted every 5 yards. Each weak tree was surrounded by 3 feet tall bars that were probably supposed to protect it. Touching the sapling gently, she sighed. She knew what it was like be trapped in something, unable to move, grow...or change. 

A gust of wind swept through the tree, and it sapling quivered in response. Its leaves, all the color of fire, which she had earlier looked at with awe, now seemed like tears. And as each fiery tear fell, the wind relentlessly blew harder, and it seemed it would not stop until every last one fell. The small sapling wavered in the wind, the golds, crimsons and oranges scattering on the ground.

Disturbed with this, yet not knowing why, Kat stepped in front of the tree, blocking it with her body. The wind howled against her, but after a few minutes it stopped. Looking at the tree, Kat saw that the only leaves left on the tree were a healthy green, speckled with gold. 

Unsure of what this meant, she shrugged it off and continued her walk home.

*** 

By the time she stumbled back to one of the many brothels on 42nd street owned by Nicky Valentino, it was near 10 o'clock. Most of the girls who worked at the Dancing Dove stayed in the brothel, but some, like Kat, got to work out of the brothel.

"Back so soon, Lilah?" A tall voluptuous girl with dark tumbling hair asked sarcastically with an arched brow.

Flashing a sweet, fake smile Kat said "Well, Jez, someone has te actually make money feh this place, and Lord knows that ye won't be th' one te do it."

Narrowing cool gray eyes, Jillian "Jezebel" Rubato said "Just do ya job, Delilah, and maybe I won't tell Chistapher how you'se always come in late fah curfew. He won't like dat much. Aftah all, if someone ain't payin' ya, den you'se ain't supposed ta be seein' dem. Oh, and I love ya outfit, Lilah." She said with an equally sweet smile she then sashayed away.

"Don't worry yur purdy liddle head about it, Kiddy." A soft voice, with a southern drawl said from behind her. "Ya know that Jillian won't do anythin'. We've known each oddah forevah! I reckon she's juss a liddle jealous." The small, blond girl told Kat, smiling openly. She had noticed Kat's boyish attire as well, but decided not to mention it.

"I know we've known her a long time, Emily, but that dunnae mean she won't do anything te me." Smiling slightly, not for the first time, Kat couldn't help but wonder how this girl could keep her innocence when she's been a prostitute for near 5 years. Her China blue eyes were still as wide and trusting as a child's, and her sweet smile held true. 

"Messalina, don't ya even th'nk fah a second dat I cain't heah ya. I'se can heah ya loud an cleah, and let me tell ya dis right now. I will tell Christapher whatevah da hell I want ta about Delilah, and it ain't 'cause I'se jealous. Lilah needs ta be put in hoir place." Jezebel's sultry voice said heatedly. As cold as she was to Kat, she was always that heated to Emily, or "Messalina." "And don't call me Jillian!"

Her eyelids fluttering down, Emily shook her head softly. 'Oh Jill...ya need the money fer yer son. Yer son...the only thing left of yer one true love.' She thought wistfully to herself. 'It's a good thing that Chistopher is helpin' her out.' She thought with a slow, dreamy smile. 'Takin' in liddle Johnny an' takin' care of 'im all day.'

Seeing Em smile with a daydreaming look on her face, Kat asked "What are ye thinkin' o', me sweet Emmie?"

"Nothin' of any interest to ya, Kathleen Molloy." Emily said with a secretive smile.

"Is that so, Miss Emily Thompson? Come on...who'se th' guy? Ye don't like jus' any guys, Em. So who is it?" Kat asked with a smile.

"A sweet guy. Who loves chillun. Takes care of people. A lovely man. He's only 20 years old, and he already has a purdy good job. Lots of authority." The girl with small bones said with a soft sigh.

"Sounds like a great guy feh ye, Em." Kat said, truly happy for her friend. She was a little worried about Emily getting hurt, because although she was one of the sweetest girls Kat knew, she tended to be too trusting. Pushing her coppery curls away from her face she heard Emily gasp.

"Oh my! Kiddy, what happened to ya? Who did this? Come, we need to get this covered up b'fore anyone sees it. Too bad Jill didn't see it. Ya know she's great with all that makeup." Emily said, frowning in worry.

Jill...she had been a great friend. But now...now, how she would scold and ridicule for those bruises covering Kat. Even if she didn't mean it, she had to keep her image. 'She needs te stay on Chistef'r's good side. If not...then it would be Johnny who paid for it. Her little Johnny has nothin' te do with this, yet Chistef'r dragged him in anyway. What did Johnny eveh do?' Kat asked herself, but even as she asked a distant part of her mind said 'He was born in th' streets, that's what he did. He was born.'

Realizing that her friend was earnestly waiting for an answer to her questions, Kat smiled and said "Dunnae worry yeself oveh this, Em. It was jus' an accident. I-I fell." Seeing the evident relief in her friend's face, Kat smiled. Then, squaring her shoulders and becoming business-like, Kat said "We better go. The best customers come in about now."

*** 

The next afternoon, Kat decidedly avoided any place in which she knew a newsie worked at. Which pretty much covered every corner where there were people to sell to. Which also meant that Kat would have a pretty bad day for business that day.

"Heya. Kat, right?" A voice asked from behind her.

"Ye must be mistaken, suh. Me name's Delilah, iffen ye were wonderin'. Or the Irish Rose, iffen ye like. An who might ye be?" Kat asked softly, slurring a few words to change her normally sing-song high voice to a lower, sultry one. She clenched her fists to stop herself from touching her hair, which was swept up prettily from her face, a few curls escaping from the knot. A mirthless smile crept up on her as she thought about how strategic her hair was put up, so that a few wisps would curl by her neck so that men might think of how her hair would look down, blowing free. Or more importantly, so that men would think of how that hair would be spread out against a pillow. Everything from her hair, to her clingy green dress, to her elegant green sandals with heels were used for one particular reason-to lure men.

Corks Shaunessy knew that Kat, or "Delilah," looked nice with her hair all piles up, hew knew that her dress looked pretty with her hair color, and he knew that her heels made her legs look longer, but he did not realize what their reasons were. "Okay, Delilah, what are ye doin' in this part o' town? It ain't th' safest place feh a sweet goil like yeself."

Taking in the boy's blond hair, medium build and blue eyes, Kat nearly gasped with surprise and recognition. Eyelids fluttering, Kat struggled to gain control over herself, and then, with open eyes and a sultry smile she told the boy "I know this place ain't th' safest place feh a sweet girl. So it's a good thing that I ain't no sweet girl. Now excuse me, suh, but I must be goin'."

Flustered, yet knowing not to show it, Kat inclined her head politely, and walk in strides away, green material rustling with every step.

Staring after the copper-haired enigma, it dawn upon him. Delilah. What she told her "customers" to call her. Grinning foolishly he thought to himself 'If she don't want people ta know her real name, dat means she ain't a bad person. If she was, she wouldn't care if people knew her name is actually Kat.' Another part of his mind yelled at him 'Corks, ya idiot! Maybe she lied ta you'se!' And yet another part asked him 'Why do ya even care?'

Corks wasn't sure why he cared. She was just a whore, right? "No. Dat ain't right. She's a poirson. And if I'se right, she don't wanna be a whore any more den anyone would wanna. She probably got inta some trouble or somet'ing." He muttered, unaware that he was talking aloud.

"What, you'se tawking ta yaself now, Shaunessy? I know dat you'se a joik, but I didn't know you'se crazy, too." A light voice said from behind him.

"Mulligan. Gee, it's always such a pleasure te see ye. With ye bein' so cheerful and all," Corks muttered loudly, knowing that Erin would hear him. He wasn't in the mood for this.

"Ya didn't seem ta be so sarcastic when I'se brought in me 'stray' last night, Shaunessy. Or do ya sometimes take a break from being a scabbah?" Erin asked with a smirk.

"Yeah, well ye 'stray' is a harlot, working down at Valentino's. And when I'se say Valentino's I mean da whore house street, not his liquor shipments." Corks snapped back. 'Shit. Did I just say dat?' Corks asked, and mentally slapped himself on the head. 

"What?" The small girl said dumbfounded. She didn't seem to understand what he was saying. 'Kat? A...a whore?'

"Yeah," Corks said almost as if her heard Erin's thoughts, then quickly added "But I'se t'ink she don't like it. She jus' pretends she does 'cause her boss likes te beat her up. Maybe if she knew dat newsies are da best at hiding people she'd come te her senses. Anyway, I gotta head back ta da Lodgin' House." His Irish accent slipping away at the serious topic.

Brows knitted, she made her face impassive, although she was stunned at this newly found information. She nodded silently, though her mind was far away.

***

A few blocks from where she had seen the newsie who called himself Corks, Kat stopped suddenly and leaned against a tall, familiar building. 

Her breath came out in small pants, and her heart beat flutteringly in her chest. People who weren't customers looked down upon her and customers relished her. So where did that leave Corks?

'Maybe he jus' wants te be ye friend,' came a fleeting thought. 'Ye friend? What kind o' idiot are ye, Molloy? What he wants is te get inte ye pants. Ain't that what all men want? Don't fool yeself. There ain't no way te have a man that jus' wants te be ye friend.' Her sensible voice argued. She knew that she should listen to that voice. It was that voice that kept her alive on the streets for near 4 years.

Still, there was that annoying bit of hope that bubbled in her heart. A friend. A real friend, besides Em or Jill, and  possibly even Erin. It felt like too much to wish for. 

Shaking her head, she took off, knowing she needed to make at least a few dollars a day to satisfy Christopher, and froze as a hand touched her shoulder.

***

'A whore...a whore...she's a whore.' The thought ran back and forth through Erin's mind like a crazed racehorse for the hundredth time that day, as she walked in the opposite direction of South Bronx.

She just couldn't believe it. Is it even possible? 'Guess it is, Mulligan. But Corks...he said she don't like it. So why does she stay dere? Maybe dat guy, Christapher gots somet'ing on her.' 

When the thought registered, Erin's eyes widened. In the next few seconds, the only thing that stood in place of Erin was trail of dust, leading in the direction of the South Bronx Lodging House.

***

"Excuse me, miss? Yer Kat, right?" An meek, unfamiliar voice said from behind Kat.

"Kat?" She asked surprised, and glanced up at the building she stood under. Wincing when she read "South Bronx Newsboy Lodging House" she decided to just tell the truth. "Aye, that's me. And ye are?"

"Rollah Donahue." The boy said shyly, lowering his head to let soft brown hair fall over his shining brown eyes.

'The knight,' Kat thought. It was her knight in shining armor. "Uh...hi," she said, catching herself. 

"Uh, I'se a newsie," He said, looking uncomfortable, and gesturing to the sign on the building.

Rolling her eyes, Kat looked at him pointedly and said "An' what do ye expect from me? Te be ye friend or somethin'?" Seeing the obvious hurt that flashed in his eyes, she sighed. "Listen, Roller, is it? Well, I'm sorry, but I'm not really having th'...best o' days. Maybe we'll talk lateh, alright?"

Picking up her skirts, she hurried down the streets, looking as if she was running from something. Roller hoped it wasn't him. Shaking his head slightly in confusion, he headed into the Lodging House.

***

Sprawled on his bunk, Corks lay motionless, concentrating at the ceiling. He wasn't a serious guy, and he was lost at what to do in this serious situation. He was walking on glass, and thread-like cracks were already starting to appear beneath him. 

"Corks? Ya in heah?" A voice said from the doorway.

Getting up, he saw Erin leaning against the frame of the door. "I'se heah," he said, Irish accent disappearing. 

"Ya t'ink dat 'er boss might 'ave somethin' on 'er?" Her. Erin didn't need to specify who.

"Whaddaya mean?" He asked cautiously, sensing Erin was on to something.

Erin rolled her eyes. "I mean dat 'e might be blackmailin' 'er or somethin'." 

"How we gonna figure it out?" Corks asked, still not quite understanding what Erin wanted them to do about it.

"We follow 'er and sneak around in 'er boss' office." Smirking, she said "You'se can distract them, and I'll find da records. Dey gotta 'ave records, right?"

Corks looked at her, silently asking if she was serious. Getting a sharp look back, he sighed. "Right," as an afterthought he wondered how they were going to know where to go. _"Ask ye friends about Delilah,"_ she had told him. 'Hmm, maybe I will,"

more to come!


End file.
